


in a world of black and white

by kaleidoscopeminds



Series: soulmate patterns [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Ashton Irwin, Asexual Character, Barista Ashton Irwin, College Parties, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Professor Jack, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, ace Luke, almost a song fic, he does it all folks!!, its vague and very brief but just in case, probably too much colour symbolism, the jalex is very background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopeminds/pseuds/kaleidoscopeminds
Summary: “Hey,” Luke says, as close to Ashton’s ear as he can get. Ashton’s head snaps up immediately and his hazel eyes behind his tortoiseshell glasses flick towards him, wide in surprise. Ashton’s eyes are a conundrum to Luke, sometimes gleaming warm amber with flecks of deeper mahogany, sometimes sparkling emerald and viridescent, and sometimes somewhere between the two, glinting and swirling with a golden green. Luke could spend weeks trying to solve the enigma of Ashton’s eyes, and thinks that he might be happy to.
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth (background), Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood (background)
Series: soulmate patterns [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129169
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46





	in a world of black and white

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellawritess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/gifts).



> This is written for the club fic exchange for the very lovely Bella. A few things to address here. I’ll start with an apology because I know Bella wanted a jalex fic but unfortunately, she got me, therefore this is not what she actually wants. I’m sorry Bella. I hope you can forgive me for choosing your second choice pairing. I also realised whilst writing it that Bella herself has written a vastly superior lashton college soulmate au so... sorry about that as well? please go and read that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234501) perhaps instead of this
> 
> This is essentially a love letter for Bella, she is wonderful and caring and ridiculously empathetic, she is the reason a lot of us have been able to find our place here, and she is also the reason I started writing so it seems very apt that I got to write this for her, despite being extremely intimidated at writing for someone so talented. I hope you love it, Bella, I hope you can tell it’s written with you in mind, sending you all my love always. 
> 
> Thanks to [Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingatbabylon/pseuds/yellingatbabylon) who sat on this doc with me when I was writing it and answered my dumb questions about college because I am way too British™ to comprehend.
> 
> Title from Getaway Green by All Time Low, my top ATL song of 2020 (and probably my favourite ever) and the reason Bella and I are betrothed. Rated T for language and mild sexual references, trigger warning for mentions of alcohol and an almost panic attack. Okay, that’s all, happy reading!!

If having a soulmate means he has to act like Michael and Calum, Luke thinks that he might change his mind on wanting one so much. They might take the gold medal for the most disgusting couple that aren’t even soulmates. Well, aren’t soulmates yet, as they take every opportunity to remind Luke. The worst part is that everyone thinks they are, just because of how nauseating they are literally all of the time, and if Luke had any other friends, he would be dumping the two of them as soon as possible. He’s been trying to focus on his homework for the past hour and a half, he’s got his headphones on and he’s staring resolutely at his laptop screen but Michael and Calum are being obnoxiously gross, even for them, Michael draped over Calum’s lap and kissing him like it's the first time he’s seen Calum in months. It's not. They went out for breakfast together not four hours ago. 

Luke huffs out his nose, loudly, for the third time in the last fifteen minutes but realises it’s likely to be no more effective than the previous times. He pulls his sock off his foot from where he’s got it tucked underneath him, balls it up and throws it at the back of Michael’s red-haired head, which is attached to Calum’s head. By the mouth. Luke wishes he didn’t hear how muffled the noise of protest that Michael makes is before he mercifully pulls his face away from Calum to glare at Luke.

“Can I help you?” Michael says grumpily. 

“Can you do that somewhere else?” Luke replies.

“Can you do _that_ somewhere else?” Michael returns, not bothering to lift himself out of Calum’s lap.

“This is my room,” Luke says childishly.

“Yeah well is mine too,” Michael replies, petulantly. Calum just laughs and drops his head onto Michael’s shoulder

This is an argument they have sometimes several times a day, and it always ends the same way. Today is no different. 

“Fine, I’m going to the coffee shop to see Ashton,” Luke says, getting up and pulling on a flannel shirt, slinging his laptop into his backpack and checking his hair before deciding it's not worth it and shoving a snapback on. 

“Of course you are,” Michael responds, rolling his eyes as Luke stuffs his feet into his vans.

“Bye, Luke!” Calum calls. Michael makes a muffled noise of agreement, his lips already occupied with some part of Calum’s neck.

Luke shakes his head at the two of them before slamming the door behind him. He couldn’t actually be annoyed at them, it wasn’t easy for them to be together in Calum’s room, owing to his roommate who always seemed to have a different girl in there. Out of the two options, Luke could understand why he was the preference, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. At least they’ve sworn that the two of them won’t have sex whilst Luke’s there, he doesn’t like thinking about sex at the best of times, let alone seeing two of his best friends doing it. Luke suspects this might be partly the reason they purposefully drive Luke out of his room so often.

He gets to the cafe and it's blissfully empty. He smiles as he can see the curls of Ashton’s hair poking out behind the coffee machine, which means he’s dragged a stool behind there to use the bit of counter space to catch up on some homework. He sneaks up to the counter, being as quiet as possible, and leans over the edge of it.

“Hey,” Luke says, as close to Ashton’s ear as he can get. Ashton’s head snaps up immediately and his hazel eyes behind his tortoiseshell glasses flick towards him, wide in surprise. Ashton’s eyes are a conundrum to Luke, sometimes gleaming warm amber with flecks of deeper mahogany, sometimes sparkling emerald and viridescent, and sometimes somewhere between the two, glinting and swirling with a golden green. Luke could spend weeks trying to solve the enigma of Ashton’s eyes, and thinks that he might be happy to.

“Jesus Christ, Luke,” Ashton says, huffing out a laugh and putting a hand over his heart. 

“Sorry,” Luke giggles, chewing on his lip ring and scrunching his nose. “Working hard then?”

Ashton gets to his feet and pulls a mug off the rack behind him and starts to make Luke’s coffee for him.

“Kicked out your room again?” Ashton teases as he pushes the buttons on the coffee machine and starts steaming milk. Luke nods with a roll of his eyes and hops onto the stool on the table nearest the counter, the one he usually frequents so he can talk to Ashton whilst he works, or at least whilst he pretends to work.

“Their mouths may as well be glued together,” Luke says grumpily.

“Remind me why they didn’t just elect to room together this year?” Ashton says, coming round the front of the counter to slide Luke’s caramel latte towards him, before leaning back against the counter.

“Apparently it's better for their relationship if they don’t actually live together,” Luke says, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his coffee. Which makes no sense when they’re all over each other anyway, I just have to be witness to it all the time.”

“You sound jealous, Lukey,” Ashton says with a grin. 

“I’m not, they’re disgusting!” Luke protests. 

“You’re being very defensive,” Ashton says, still smiling. 

“Maybe I am jealous,” Luke says with a frown. “They’re not even technically soulmates and they get to do all of— that.”

“Soulmates aren’t everything, Luke,” Ashton says easily.

“I don’t get how you can be like that Ash,” Luke says earnestly. “Don’t you want to find the person you’re meant to be with forever?”

“I’d rather find someone I _want_ to be with forever,” Ashton says with a small smile. “Love shouldn’t be dictated to us, it should grow. Like ivy up a trellis, or a young spruce in a forest, it starts small but it builds into something lush and green and full.”

Luke shakes his head at Ashton, he’s always full of metaphors and symbolism. Luke teases him all the time that it's the art major in him, and says he makes no sense, but secretly Luke is fairly enamoured by it. Ashton had been this way since he had met him, already having his soulmate mark but keeping it covered under long sleeves, or a band on his wrist. He would say serenely that he wasn’t looking for his soulmate, and he’d rather not be distracted by fate, preferring to be in charge of his own path. Luke had many conversations with Ashton on this, attempting to refute the other man’s cynicism with stories of soulmates who are destined to be together for a reason, but the other man hadn’t shifted. 

“I’ll fall in love because I feel it, Luke,” He’d said. “Not because of a silly mark on my wrist.”

Luke, however, can’t help but be obsessed with the idea of soulmates, he has been as long as he can remember; tracing his mom and dad’s matching patterns around their wrists, alive and dancing with the colour of their love. The pattern appears when you turn twenty, a black set of marks unique to you and your soulmate looping around your right wrist. When your soulmate touches the pattern it would fill with colour, confirming your bond and linking the two of you together. Everyone was destined to meet their soulmate, they would be someone that was always meant to be in your life, it was just a matter of who and when. Some people found their soulmates the day they got their mark, for others it was years, but everyone met them eventually. It made him wonder whether Ashton had met his soulmate already, and if he would even know if he had. He tries not to dwell on that thought. 

He’s been waiting to get his own mark as long as it had been since his mom had explained the concept of soulmates to him, having little interest in being in other relationships before he got it, there didn’t seem any point when there was someone literally made for him out there. Being twenty seemed too long to wait, although he understood why, as the experts had theorised, it was important to have a true sense of self before the marks appeared and you became someone else’s. But Luke wants to be someone else’s. Maybe someone’s in particular.

“Your hair looks nice today, Ash,” Luke says innocently, remembering one of the reasons he wanted to speak to him. 

Ashton just looks at him suspiciously, heading back to the other side of the counter to put the milk away.

“I want to ask you a favour,” Luke continues, pulling his best doe-eyed look and smiling at Ashton, tongue between his teeth. 

Ashton blinks at him for a second before smiling slightly and shaking his head. “Oh I see, that’s where the flattery’s coming from. What can I do for you today, Princess Luke?”

“Will you do my makeup for Halloween on Friday?” Luke asks hopefully.

“I’m an art major, Luke,” Ashton says. “Not a makeup artist.”

“That’s literally not true!” Luke exclaims. “You did the makeup for half the theatre department last year. And I know you still have all of the stuff, you kept it so you could do Lauren’s makeup when you got home.” 

“Yeah because their actual artist dropped out,” Ashton shakes his head. “That does not make me qualified.”

“Makes you more qualified than me,” Luke says. “Or Michael and Calum, please don’t make me ask one of them.”

“Fine,” Ashton sighs. “But only because your face is too pretty to let one of those idiots fuck it up.”

Luke grins and tries not to blush. Ashton was always full of compliments for Luke, praise and kind words sent his direction with ease and a kind smile, and Luke could never quite wrap his head around it, why Ashton of all people would say anything nice about him. It especially didn’t help the stupid crush Luke has had on Ashton for the past year, ever since he first went to the coffee shop in his first week of freshman year, almost stumbling over his order when coming face to face with the unreasonably cute barista in a soft-looking sweater, hazel eyes twinkling behind glasses and curls falling onto his forehead. 

Since then he’d somehow managed to become close friends with Ashton. He always says Michael is his best friend; he’s his roommate and he spends more time with him than he should with any person, but Michael already had Calum, best friend from before college, boyfriends since they were sixteen and everything in between. So there’s a part of Luke that likes to think that Ashton is _his_ friend more than anyone else's, as he met him first, and asked him to join their band. The band had started as a joke as they’d discovered the instruments they played, but with the addition of Ashton, they’d actually become somewhat good in the last year, something Luke couldn’t help be quietly proud of. Luke’s not really sure why Ashton wants to stick around with them, probably a selection of the lamest sophomores out there (apart from Calum, Calum plays soccer and is therefore immediately cooler than him and Michael), but they’d fallen together and became the group of friends none of them ever had before college. 

Somewhere along the way of learning everything about Ashton, his crush had only got bigger, and Luke’s not sure how long he’ll be able to keep being Ashton’s friend when he knows he wants more from it. If Luke’s honest with himself, deep down, he’d like to be Ashton’s soulmate, but Ashton doesn’t even want a soulmate at all, let alone someone like Luke. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

“I’m just going to put some primer on first,” Ashton says quietly. “Close your eyes, it’ll only take a second.” Luke feels Ashton’s fingers swipe down his face gently, sliding across his nose and cheeks before sweeping up to his forehead, smoothing out and pressing slightly. Luke feels him tap his nose lightly and he blinks open his eyes to see Ashton smiling at him from where he’s stood between his legs.

“Okay, time to make you even paler, ghost boy,” Ashton says fondly, taking a sponge and dabbing it in the paler foundation on the back of his hand.

“I’m a vampire, not a ghost,” Luke says.

“Stop talking, and close your eyes, your face is moving too much,” Ashton reprimands, pretending to put the sponge in Luke’s eye. 

Luke closes his eyes again and pokes his tongue out at Ashton childishly, but Ashton just grabs it and Luke lets out a muffled noise of protest.

“Behave,” Ashton says, but Luke can hear the laughter in his voice.

Luke stays quiet as he feels Ashton carefully dab the foundation over his face, followed by a dusting of powder. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Luke asks.

“I suppose,” Ashton says. 

Luke opens them to find Ashton grinning at him. 

“Okay let’s do some contour, bring out those ridiculous cheekbones. “Ashton winks at him and Luke is glad of the layer of makeup he’s got on his face to cover the red that’s surely growing there. Luke concentrates on not blushing too much the whole time Ashton sweeps a darker grey colour into the hollows of his cheeks and highlights the apex with a press of shimmer from the pads of his fingers

“Not too twilight I promise,” he murmurs with a grin.

He carries on with Luke’s face explaining what he’s doing as he goes, but Luke finds it hard to focus on anything but the feeling of Ashton touching him, one of his hands holding Luke’s chin in place, the other holding a brush, an action so familiar to Luke as inherently Ashton but not one he’d ever had the fortune of seeing this close up.

“Okay, this is where I really need to concentrate so no talking or moving please,” Ashton says, brandishing an eyeliner pencil at him. “Or I’ll take your eye out.”

Luke feels like he can barely breathe, like he’s holding his breath so he doesn’t move, but he wouldn’t be able to release it anyway. His eyes flutter closed as Ashton leans forward, fingers brushing over his eyelid and resting just at the corner as the pencil drags across his lash line, and Luke concentrates really hard on not shuddering. Ashton repeats the motion on Luke’s other eye and then pulls away and nods to himself.

“Right, now for the finishing touch,” Ashton says, picking up a red lip liner, apparently oblivious to the inner meltdown Luke is having. 

Luke watches Ashton move even closer, the hand holding Luke’s chin sliding along his jaw to hold his face with more purpose, index finger resting in the hollow below Luke’s ear, whilst he starts marking around Luke’s mouth with the liner.

He watches Ashton’s eyes which are staring at his mouth with laser focus, shifting greener in the light of the lamp Ashton lit when they started, illuminated like candlelight flickering inside green glass. Luke feels hyper-aware of all the places Ashton is touching him, warmth pressing on the inside of his knees from Ashton’s legs, and his hand cradling Luke’s face, setting sparks along his skin where it’s pressed, and Luke can’t decide if he should flinch away or lean into the heat.

Too soon or not soon enough, Ashton pulls away to study his handiwork, and Luke tries to get his breath under control. He chances a look up and the concentrated expression on Ashton’s face makes him laugh.

“Stop that, I’m trying to work out if it looks good,” Ashton says, frowning.

“I’m sure it looks great,” Luke says, a little shaky, sitting on his hand to repress the urge to press his fingers against where Ashton’s touch had just been.

“Well, you look great, but that’s a given,” Ashton says with a teasing smile, eyes glinting like jade gemstones. “I’m just making sure what I’ve done hasn’t ruined it.”

Luke looks down, flushing, knowing red is crawling up his neck regardless of the makeup he has on his face.

“Fuck off,” He says, kicking Ashton’s shin. 

“I will in a minute,” Ashon winks. “I’m gonna go rinse my sponges, put your costume on and let me see the whole look before I go.”

He leaves the room with another grin and Luke shakes his head slightly and clambers to his feet. He doesn’t know why he thought it was a good idea to ask Ashton to do his makeup, he wasn’t going to complain about him touching Luke, but it might have been the most stressful forty-five minutes of his life. He digs around in his drawers to find the white shirt he’d picked up for the occasion and puts it on, changing out of his sweatpants and wiggling into his black skinny jeans, and pulling on his black ankle boots. He shrugs on a leather jacket and looks at himself in the mirror, arranging his hair into a more tousled look than he normally wears it, letting his curls fall onto his forehead. He has to admit he looks pretty good, a lackluster costume made up for by Ashton’s skill, face paler than usual, but with a slight glow, lined eyes and hollowed cheekbones, and just the hint of dripping blood from his lower lip. 

Ashton comes back into the room but starts a little at the sight of Luke. Luke watches his eyes flick up and down his body. 

“Wow. Um. You look great!” Ashton says with what Luke thinks is quite a forced smile. “I should, like, go. Yeah, I have to go.”

Luke frowns at Ashton quickly bundling all the makeup into his backpack. “You know you could still come, you know, Michael and Calum are going to be there,” He says.

“I’m good I’ve got… homework,” Ashton says quickly, shouldering his bag. “Senior year and all that. Anyway, bye, Luke!”

And with that, Ashton leaves. Luke shakes his head slightly, unsure of what just happened. 

It’s about two hours later when Luke’s thinking that maybe he should have just stayed in and done homework too. It’s not that he doesn’t like parties, or that he doesn’t have friends, but whenever he’s at them he always feels like everyone knows everyone but no one really knows him. He’s had a few drinks, sipping slowly from a red cup, but it doesn’t seem to have loosened his inhibitions enough to try to attempt to join anyone else’s group. Michael and Calum are no use, they’re playing beer pong in the corner with Calum’s soccer friends (Luke says “they”, he means Calum is playing whilst Michael hangs off his neck like a large and cumbersome scarf), and Luke has backed himself more and more into the corner of the room, holding the cup he’s had for the past hour when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Ash

_How’s the party ghost boy_

Luke

_I’m a vampire I told you_

_It's okay_

Ash

_That wasn’t very convincing_

_Neither was the speed which you replied in_

Luke

_Idk I just don’t know that many people I guess_

_Probably should have stayed in_

Ash

_Well I’m done with my homework_

_I’m about to watch a terrible scary movie and eat my weight in candy_

_If you’re not about the party you can always join me_

Luke’s heart leaps at the idea of spending the night with Ashton instead, but then he remembers how he got here, and pauses, frowning.

Luke 

_Can’t get there, calum’s roommate drove_

Ash

_I’ll come get you, send me the address_

Fifteen minutes later Ashton’s car pulls up outside the house, where Luke is resting against the pillar of the front porch. He winds down the window and grins at Luke.

“Get in, ghost boy,” He says.

Luke slides into the car and grins in relief at Ashton, Ashton’s own face reflecting his smile.

“Thanks for saving me,” Luke murmurs, warming his hands on the heater in the car. 

“Hey, what’s the point in going out, when you could just give me a call?” Ashton says, winking, shifting into drive and pulling away.

Luke shakes his head a little and smiles into the collar of his jacket. 

They spend the rest of the night spread out over the sofa in Ashton’s apartment just off campus, making fun of _The Ring_ and trying to throw eyeball shaped candy into each others’ mouths. And maybe Luke pretends to be a bit more scared than he actually is, just so he can grip Ashton’s hand, his fingers tangling with his own, and gripping just as hard back. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

“Stop staring at him like that, you’re being weird,” Luke hisses out the side of his mouth at Michael. They’re in History of Rock Music, a class they’d both chosen to fill a space on their timetable that they thought would be a laugh, and how hard could it be considering they were already in a band? It turned out to be more labour intensive than either one of them thought, despite their kind Professor who liked to lead them on elaborate tales to explain his points on identifying a wide variety of rock-music styles within a historical context. As he has done for the last four months, Michael is staring at Professor “Just call me Jack”, with a glazed look in his eyes.

“He’s teaching, I’m supposed to be watching him!” Michael whispers back. “His blue streak looks especially sexy today.”

“Not watching him like that,” Luke replies. “He’s got a soulmate Mikey, as do you.”

Michael had gotten his pattern a couple of weeks ago on his birthday, but it meant very little to anyone until Calum got his in January, Michael continued to pretend the looping back marks on his wrist weren’t there, being as disgusting with Calum as ever. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view,” Michael murmurs. 

“Well Just Call Me Jack’s cute husband might not appreciate you enjoying the view,” Luke whispers. 

He’s referring to the way that at the end of their Wednesday class without fail, Jack’s husband (and soulmate) would come into the room before everyone had left to drop off a bag with food in, despite Jack’s protests every time that he was disturbing him before his class had left.

Luke liked to watch them; “Alex” as he discovered cute husband’s name was, and Jack were the kind of soulmates that Luke dreamed of being, constantly making fun of the other, finishing each other’s thoughts before they could really articulate them, and so in sync it made Luke’s heart ache just to watch them. 

“Don’t act like you're not equally as obsessed with Just Call Me Jack and Cute Husband Alex,” Michael whispers, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not obsessed!” Luke responds defensively. “I appreciate their relationship that’s all.” 

“Well I appreciate Jack,” Michael says. “Particularly his legs in those jeans.”

“Ew, Mikey,” Luke says, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s not my fault you’re a prude, Luke,” Michael says.

“I’m not a prude, Michael, I’m ace, there’s a difference,” Luke says reproachfully, but he knows Michael’s only joking. Michael’s way of showing love was slightly too-mean jokes. “It’s more the fact he’s our prof and he’s also probably ten years older than you.”

“No way is he ten years older,” Michael protests. “Surely no more than seven or eight, that’s reasonable!” 

“Have you boys got a problem back there?” Jack’s voice interrupts Luke and Michael’s whispered argument and Luke looks up to see him leaning against his desk with an amused look in his eyes.

“No, sorry,” Michael says next to him as Luke blushes furiously at how they’ve been caught debating Jack’s age.

“Maybe it would be worth paying attention for just a moment then,” Jack continues with a wry smile. “I know I’m not the most interesting thing to look at but I am in fact teaching this class. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on my riveting discussion on how country music influenced the bands we listen to today, hm?”

Jack grins at them both before uncrossing his long legs and going to stand next to the board again.

Luke elbows Michael in the ribs and Michael just laughs under his breath. 

It doesn’t stop Luke from hanging around and packing his bag slowly at the end of class so he doesn’t miss Cute Husband Alex arrive, and sure enough, just as the majority of the class is leaving, he bounds through the door, in a sweatshirt, jeans ripped at the knee, a bandana wrapped around his head.

“Hi, Professor Boy,” Alex says, sliding a bag towards Jack on the desk with the sunniest smile Luke thinks he’s ever seen.

“You can’t just show up here you know,” Jack says, as usual, trying to look reproachful but unable to stop the smile escaping from his lips. 

“And what are you gonna do about it,” Alex says, hip checking Jack. As he does he subtly reaches out to brush his fingers along the mark on Jack's wrist, and Luke can see Jack's lips upturn even more at the familiar gesture. 

“Maybe I’ll speak to the Dean and get you banned from campus, thought about that?” Jack says, unfurling the bag and looking inside. "Ever thought about that?"

“You wouldn’t, you love me and the sandwiches I make you too much,” Alex says smugly, perching himself on the edge of the desk. 

“You know I only love you—”

“For my sandwiches, yes,” Alex says with a laugh. “It's lucky that’s what's in the bag then isn’t it?”

Luke figures he’s spent long enough packing up and heads to the front of the room with Michael, ignoring his eye rolls at Luke lingering.

“Thanks, Luke, Michael,” Jack calls as they head towards the door. “Pay attention next time and I won’t call you out in front of everyone.”

“You reprimanded them in front of the whole class?” Alex asks with a laugh.

“Yes, did you know I'm a super-strict, super-serious teacher?” Jack says.

“F— shut up, Jack.” Alex rolls his eyes.

“Alex!” Jack says, horrified, winking at Michael and Luke as they leave the room. “Were you about to swear in front of those poor innocent children?"

Luke can’t help but laugh under his breath as they get into the hallway. He and Michael stop at the bagel shop to grab some lunch before their next class, and Luke pulls out his stats notes to skim through as he thinks his professor might surprise them with a quiz.

“Why did I decide to become a psych major,” Luke groans as he stares at his notes.

“Beats me, bro,” Michael says around a mouthful of bagel.

“I thought switching from math would mean I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit,” Luke mumbles, brandishing his notes at Michael. Michael just rolls his eyes at him.

“I wonder if Ash will be okay for band practice later,” Michael muses as he sips his coffee.

“What?” Luke looks up from his notes, distracted.

“He wasn’t at the coffee shop when Calum went this morning,” Michael explains, “Calum texted him and he said he was sick so had taken the morning off."

Luke frowns, he hadn’t spoken to Ashton this morning yet, but that was usual for a Wednesday; Luke had class and Ashton worked a shift at the coffee shop until early afternoon, when Luke would stop by and they would head to band practice together. 

“He must be really sick, I don’t remember the last time Ashton took a day off for anything,” Michael says with a laugh. Luke’s frown deepens, he knows this to be true, and he feels worried, although realistically he knows Ashton will be fine. 

Luke pulls out his phone surreptitiously during his stats class and types out a message to Ashton. 

Luke

_Hey, you okay? Mikey said you’re sick_

Ash

_Calum’s such a gossip I s2g_

_I’m fine!!!!_

Luke

_If you’re fine why aren’t you at work_

Ash

_I tried to go_

_I sort of nearly passed out when I got there and Zack told me to go home again_

Luke

_Ash!!!!! jesus christ_

Ash

_Its just a tiny bit of flu_

Luke

_Right I’m coming round after my class_

Ash

_I’m fine I promise!!!_

_Might need to take a rain check on band practice today_

That’s when Luke knows it’s really bad, Ashton hasn’t suggested postponing band practice once in over a year of them doing it, sometimes being the only one to get the others to commit to rehearsal time.

Luke

_I’ll see you in approximately 45 minutes and there’s nothing you can do about it_

Ash

_ >:( _

When Luke gets to Ashton’s apartment, Ashton’s roommate, Matt, opens the door for him.

“Hey, Luke,” He says with a smile. “He’s in there.” Matt jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards Ashton’s bedroom. “Try to get him to sleep or something, I’m going to class.”

Luke gives Matt a wave as he leaves and heads towards Ashton’s bedroom. He knocks gently at the door and pushes it open as it's slightly ajar, and Luke always invites himself into Ashton’s room. 

Ashton is sitting at his desk with sheets of various sketchbooks strewn around him, scratching furiously at one with pencils, grey smudging up his fingers and hands. He’s got a blanket wrapped around his shoulders but he’s shivering, his hair in disarray.

“Hey,” Luke says quietly, as he’s not sure Ashton’s heard him enter. 

Ashton looks up at Luke and Luke almost winces at him, his skin is pale and pasty looking, glasses sliding towards the end of his nose, and huge dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” Ashton says, his voice scratchy, whilst quickly shuffling some of his papers underneath a stack of books. 

“What are you doing?” Luke asks.

“Well I can’t work so I thought I would try to get ahead on some of my sketches for my final project plan,” Ashton says hoarsely, before finishing his statement with an ugly cough.

“Now is not the time to get ahead on anything,” Luke says firmly, coming into the room and standing next to Ashton’s desk. He rests a hand on Ashton’s shoulder.

“I have to do something useful,” Ashton protests.

“Something useful would be sleeping,” Luke says softly, brushing a stray curl out of Ashton’s face before resting his hand back on his shoulder. 

“I can’t just sleep the rest of the day away Luke,” Ashton complains, “I’ve got too much to do.” 

“Sleep now and you can do some more of this later,” Luke says firmly.

Ashton looks like he might protest further, but then looks at Luke in the eyes and seems to sag under Luke’s hand. 

“Okay,” He murmurs, getting up slowly from his seat. Luke guides him over to his bed and Ashton sinks into it, curling up under the quilt.

“I’m going to make you some tea,” Luke says softly, “Don’t you dare move anywhere.”

Luke heads into the kitchen and digs around where he knows Ashton keeps his tea, mainly for Luke to drink when he’s at their apartment, Ashton tends to drink coffee instead. Luke brews two cups, adding a splash of milk to each, before carrying them carefully back into Ashton’s room. Ashton smiles at him sleepily as he sets down the mugs on the bedside table. Luke feels a familiar rush of warmth and the sight of Ashton’s dimpled smile, despite how exhausted he looks.

Luke perches on the edge of the bed next to Ashton, and gently pulls his glasses off his face with a laugh, carefully placing them next to the cups of tea.

“Do you want me to go get you some food? Some flu meds?” Luke asks quietly, brushing his hand through Ashton’s hair. “Tell me what you need, Ashton,” 

“Just you is good for now,” Ashton croaks as he nuzzles his head into Luke’s hand. “Please stay for a bit.”

Ashton mumbles the last bit, closing his eyes as he starts to doze off within seconds, and Luke is grateful that Ashton can’t see the blush that has risen to his cheeks at Ashton’s probably fever-driven words. 

Luke tucks his legs up underneath him and reaches over to grab his tea, careful to keep his hand in place on the side of Ashton’s head, and settles in next to him. He sips his tea slowly, as Ashton snuffles in his sleep, and Luke tries not to think how much he likes the idea of being what Ashton needs.

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

Winter break comes and goes, Luke spending as little time at home with his family as possible. It’s not that he doesn’t love them, but Michael, Calum, Ashton and him agree to use their time off to do some actual band rehearsal, so they can start trying to go to some open-mic nights and pick up some gigs, and as Michael and Calum are the only ones whose family live in the same state, that means staying on campus for as long as possible and then returning to campus as soon as possible. Luke’s not complaining, he’ll take any opportunity to spend as much time with his best friends as he can, particularly Ashton. Since the incident when Luke stayed with Ashton when he was sick, something has shifted between the two of them again. They’re impossibly close, nearly always touching; a hand on a knee, an arm slung over a shoulder, legs thrown in a lap, and when they're not together, Luke spends most of his time texting Ashton about nothing and everything. Luke often feels his eyes being drawn to Ashton’s wrist, to the black band encircling it, and finds himself trying to imagine what’s underneath. It makes him want to broach the topic of exactly what they're doing, but also doesn’t want to draw attention to it, lest it breaks the spell they seem to be under. 

Michael, however, is under no such qualms about it and takes to teasing Luke at any opportunity, asking Luke where he’s been with wiggling eyebrows when he knows he’s been studying at Ashton’s, or making lewd comments every time he notices them touching. It’s not like he has been doing anything that Michael is suggesting, and not like he ever will, but that apparently makes it even funnier, as Michael patiently explains to him.

Calum gets his pattern in January, and Luke is both awestruck and horribly jealous to watch the moment he and Michael get their colours, in the grey winter light of the morning, as they lay in Michael’s bed just across from Luke. Michael presses his fingers against the loops on Calum’s wrist, identical to the ones he’s been sporting since November, and Luke can’t help hold his breath for a second, before the black marks start filling with colour, wrapping around in bursts of red and magenta, scarlet swirls overlapping and merging, blushing along Calum’s skin. Luke hears Calum laugh quietly with unbridled joy, as he does the same to Michael, his long fingers encircling Michael’s wrist, and at the point where his thumb first presses, a golden yellow streaks away from it, warm ochre flashing along Michael’s skin, filling in the spaces on Michael’s pattern, like the sun pouring light through the dappled shadow of leaves under trees. 

Luke smiles to himself and turns over, thinking that he’s intruded enough on their morning, and closes his eyes again, unable to stop imagining his own pattern filling with colour, maybe one of the many shades of a pair of eyes he can’t get out of his head.

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

A few weeks later Ashton decides that they as a band should start working on some original songs.

“Obviously we’ll mainly play covers,” He says, referring to the gig they’d managed to secure at Ashton’s coffee shop later that month. “But I think it would be good to have an original in there, you know?”

Luke agrees with Ashton, he also secretly has some of his own songs that he’s been working on, too shy to bring them up with the other boys, but he’s got lyrics scribbled on spare notepaper and melodies buried in his voice notes from brief moments when he’d pull his guitar out on his own in the dorm. Calum and Michael are less keen, Luke thinks it's less because they think writing their own songs is a bad idea, and more because they deem any time when they’re not making out as wasted, but Luke offers to work on it with Ashton, and the smile Ashton gives him, bright and dimpled, eyes glowing and verdurous is absolutely worth it. 

Luke thinks he might want to take back his offer as soon as he spends thirty seconds with Ashton, brow furrowed and strumming Luke’s acoustic softly. He was utterly unprepared for the way that seeing Ashton playing guitar would make him feel. And the way it makes him feel is that he’s going to commit a crime. Against Ashton and the guitar. Against all the guitars in the world probably. Luke was under the impression that Ashton only played the drums, but his eyes are watching the man in front of him strumming, albeit slightly clumsily, and Luke’s losing his mind.

“So I’m thinking something like this,” Ashton says, strumming through a short chord progression, before pausing and looking at Luke, probably because he’s been silent for the past ten minutes. 

“Luke?” Ashton says, looking up at Luke who’s stood just staring at Ashton. “You okay there?”

“I didn’t know you played guitar,” Luke says, and he’s aware it comes out a little more accusatory than he intends.

Ashton looks at him with a confused look. “I can’t really, but Matt plays so I’ve been teaching myself a bit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luke asks

Ashton gives him a strange look. “Didn’t think there was anything to tell. I’m not very good.”

Luke pauses, struggling for a second, and Ashton continues looking at him questioningly. 

Luke shakes himself and comes to sit on the piano bench opposite Ashton in the music room they’ve snagged for the afternoon. 

“Sorry,” Luke says, trying to concentrate. “Could you do that again?”

Ashton grins at him, a bit too knowingly for Luke’s liking, and strums through it again. Luke makes a concerted effort to focus on what he’s playing, rather than the way his long fingers move against the strings and the way his lips purse in concentration. What he’s playing actually sounds great, and Luke is reminded of a voice memo he recorded a few weeks back when he was at home for break. He gestures at Ashton to continue and turns around to pick out the melody he remembers on the piano on top of what Ashton is playing. He pauses and turns around to look at Ashton, who’s eyes have lit up like the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling of Luke’s childhood bedroom.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any lyrics to go with that?” Ashton asks.

Luke goes over to his bag and takes a deep breath before pulling out his writing notebook, something that he’s never shown anyone before. He comes to sit back down on the piano bench and flicks through the pages before landing on the one he remembers writing vividly.

“I might do,” He says, looking up at Ashton’s glittering eyes. 

“Then we might just make a hell of a team,” Ashton responds with a grin, sitting himself down on the bench next to Luke and peering at the book in Luke's hands. 

It becomes another thing the two of them can whirl hours away doing together, spare hours in their schedules and Sunday afternoons when they’re avoiding homework, become writing opportunities, pressed close to each other on a piano bench or Luke strumming his guitar and singing a lyricless melody over the top of it whilst Ashton taps out a rhythm on the chair or Luke’s knee, harmonising along with him. Most of that they come up with isn’t any good, but it feels good, and Luke can’t argue with that.

They perform at the coffee shop a couple of weeks later. It’s the middle of the afternoon and there can’t be more than twenty people in the tiny shop, mainly the friends and classmates they’d managed to persuade to come, but Luke is still so nervous he’s worried he’ll open his mouth and vomit all over the microphone. He’s not sure what would be worse, that or nothing coming out at all as he gapes uselessly at the audience. He backs himself into the corner of the storeroom, the only place that doesn’t have any people in it, and tries to steady his breathing a little. It’s not working, and he feels like the walls of the storeroom are closing in on him but also like he can’t move his feet.

“Luke?” He hears Ashton’s voice as though it's miles away. He tries to open his mouth to say he’s fine but he seems to have lost any control over his body. He sees Ashton come into the small room to see Luke pressed into the corner, Ashton’s eyes flashing with worry.

“Are you okay?” Ashton approaches Luke slowly, as if he’s going to bolt, Luke can’t tell Ashton that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

Ashton seems to realise that Luke has no intention of speaking anytime soon, and speaks to him slowly. “Hey, Luke, I’m gonna put my hand on your shoulder, that okay?”

Luke nods stiffly and Ashton reaches out deliberately to land a hand on his shoulder. Luke can feel the warmth from it sliding down from his shoulder and something loosens just slightly inside him. 

“Can you breathe for me?” Ashton says calmly, his eyes swimming a soothing green in Luke’s consciousness. Luke also realises that he’s been holding his breath, he’s not sure for how long, and exhales heavily before drawing in a shaky breath. Everything refocuses as he breathes a couple of times, concentrating on the feeling of Ashton’s hand on him and his eyes, warm with concern, focusing on him. He feels like he’s been pulled back to the surface from the inky depths that he’s been drowning in by Ashton.

“Hey, sorry,” Luke says unevenly. “I’m okay.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ashton says kindly, eyes not drifting from Luke’s. “It’s okay to be nervous you know.”

“Yeah, it's just—” Luke mumbles, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt.

Ashton grabs Luke’s hands to stop them twitching and rubs his thumbs soothingly over his knuckles.

“What are you scared about?” Ashton asks. 

“What if I suck?” Luke says quietly and Ashton scoffs. 

“You’ve got this. You’re amazing. Your voice is sick, your song is great. Everyone is going to love you,” Ashton says with a sure smile and Luke can’t help but be reassured by Ashton’s confidence in him. 

“It’s your song, not mine,” Luke says.

“Our song then, how’s that?” Ashton says, rolling his eyes at that being the only bit Luke responds to. 

“Good,” Luke says, smiling a little at the force with which Ashton grinning at him. “It’s good.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Ashton asks, looking serious for a second, genuinely concerned, like he’ll call off the whole thing if Luke doesn’t want to do it.

“Yeah, I’m good. I can do this,” Luke says. Ashton nods, satisfied, a wide grin back on his face.

“Come on then, we can’t play without our super-hot frontman can we?” Ashton winks at him and starts tugging him out of the storeroom.

Luke’s breath stutters for another reason as he allows himself to be pulled out of the room. 

The tiny show is great, Luke only messes up the words once, they get a rapturous round of applause when they finish, and everything feels a hundred times better when they get back outside and Ashton wraps his arms around him. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

It’s towards the middle of April when Ashton goes into full final project mania. Luke got used to him disappearing for days on end for his project last year, but this year is something else, he’s starting to wonder if he can even remember what his face looks like. (That’s a lie, Luke can remember exactly what Ashton’s face looks like, the pink of his lips leaving a permanent stain behind his eyes and the green fire of his eyes branded on the inside of his brain.) He’s gone from seeing him nearly every day to barely at all, he’s cut back his shifts at the coffee shop dramatically and now he’s only working when Luke’s in class, and he spends the rest of the time at the studio in the art building, explaining to Luke over text that his project too big to fit inside his room. 

After the fourth time Luke gets a text to say Ashton won’t be at band practice, or won’t be at his Saturday shift at the coffee shop or won’t be in his room for Luke to drop by, Luke throws a bit of a tantrum. Not that that’s what he would call it, but it's what Michael calls it as Luke paces up and down their room, stats notes left on his bed from where he’s supposed to be studying.

“I’m guessing it's not just the terrible stats content that’s got you so pissy,” Michael says, looking at Luke from his own bed.

Luke throws him a glare, picks up a pen and throws it at Michael. Michael squawks as it hits him square in the forehead.

“Just go and find him yourself,” Michael groans, leaning back on his bed and looking like he’s attempting to smother himself in his textbook. “I can’t watch you do this anymore.” 

“You're just saying that so Calum can come over,” Luke says stroppily.

“I’m not, I’m looking out for your mental wellbeing. ” Michael says. “Go and find him and then come back so you can help me with History of Rock, I can't predict whether Jack's gonna give us the easiest final ever or make it hard as fuck to mess with us.”

"Probably the latter," Luke snorts. "But then he'll give us all As regardless just because he can."

"Yeah well I'm not gonna learn anything with you pacing around like a madman," Michael says. "Go and find Ashton, admit your stupid crush and then do us all a favour and bone him."

Luke gives him a disgusted look but pockets his phone and heads out the door, Michael nodding in satisfaction as he picks his textbook back up again.

Luke thinks he knows what studio Ashton will be in, but he glances in each of them as he goes past, picking up tiny bits of unfinished sculptures, paintings and textiles in his peripherals as he searches for a mop of curly hair and a pair of glasses.

He reaches the last studio, which is the one he was heading for anyway. The door is slightly open so he pushes it open quietly so he doesn’t startle Ashton if he is in there. Luke takes a look around the room and stifles a gasp.

Over pretty much every surface available there’s bits of paper, dirty palettes and paints, some of them falling on the floor, spilling into all the space available, and all seeming to lead to where Ashton is. He’s sat cross-legged in front of three huge canvases, taller than even Luke and probably about as broad, carefully sweeping paint into the bottom left corner of one of them. Over the canvases is a repeating pattern, an intricate web of back lines which seem to form something that looks like leaves or flowers but not quite, maybe waves or swirling ripples, weaving in and out of each other over and over again, covering all available white space. The one in the middle has no paint; stark white shining in between the black lines Ashton has etched into the canvas, but the other two are being filled with colour. All the colours. Ashton has swiped a swirling mix of every colour he seemingly could possibly mix up through the markings, not within them but over and under, blending and mixing but some stark and vivid, brushed hard onto the surface. He’s not sure if it's intentional, but Luke can pick out the greens in the mix, strong flashes appearing vibrant and verdant like a flash of a green traffic light, along with a sparkling blue that Ashton seems to have favoured, which has been mixed with almost every other colour to form various shades, from the inky darkness of the night sky to the palest spray of seafoam.

It's beautiful, maybe the most beautiful thing Luke’s ever seen, and he realises with an unidentifiable feeling that bubbles up inside him that this isn’t just a pattern. It's a soulmate pattern. 

“Is that—” Luke is unable to keep quiet, the start of his question coming out of his mouth unintentionally.

Ashton jumps, swiping the current golden colour he has in his hand over a good portion of the bottom corner, and whips his head around to look at Luke, his eyes wide. Luke watches his mouth drop open and his fingers flex around his paintbrush.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, eyes flicking between Luke and the canvases. He clambers to his feet and shifts uncomfortably. 

“Hadn’t seen you in a while, I was getting worried,” Luke says defensively.

He takes a few steps into the studio. “Ash is that—” He starts again.

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet,” Ashton whispers. “Not until. Later.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to colour inside the lines?” Luke asks quietly as his eyes continue to rake over the patterns in front of him. 

“Not when it comes to y— well this,” Ashton says nervously, brushing a hand through his hair.

Luke takes a few more steps forward until he’s stood right next to Ashton, the aureate warmth of him seeping into his skin even though they're not even touching.

He reaches a hand out slightly and Ashton takes it instinctively, wrapping his long fingers around Luke’s. Luke doesn’t ask again, he knows what he’s looking at, its Ashton’s soulmate pattern, what’s been hidden under the band the whole time Luke has known him, scratched out in front of him over and over again. 

“I thought it was just a silly mark on your wrist,” Luke says. “God, it's so beautiful, Ash.” 

Luke hears Ashton inhale slightly next to him and let out a small laugh.

“I suppose I’ve been thinking about it in a slightly different way recently,” Ashton admits. 

Luke turns his body slightly towards Ashton and finds him already looking at him, his nose now less than an inch from Luke’s.

“What do you mean?” Luke almost whispers. 

“I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s not so bad to have someone that’s meant for you. Meant just for you.” Ashton mumbles, looking into Luke’s eyes. “If— you know. It’s the right person.” 

Luke nervously chews his lip ring and watches Ashton’s eyes track the movement, now appearing a warm and blazing gold. Luke can’t help but inch even closer.

“Luke,” Ashton says warningly.

“What?” Luke murmurs, watching the way Ashton’s lips wrap around his name.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Ashton says.

Luke steps back slightly, unable to keep the flash of hurt off his face, and tries to pull his hand out of Ashton’s. 

“No, listen,” Ashton says quickly, gripping onto Luke’s hand. “You get your pattern in a couple of months, Lukey. This is not a good time.”

“I don’t care,” Luke insists, stepping back towards Ashton now he knows it's not a straight rejection.

“You do, though, Luke,” Ashton says quietly with a small smile. “You care about soulmates more than maybe anyone I’ve ever met. You’ll get your pattern and you’ll go looking for who you’re supposed to be with.” 

“I thought you weren’t going to let a mark tell you what to do.”

“This isn’t about me,” Ashton says, brushing a paint-covered hand through his hair distractedly. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Of course it fucking does,” Luke says, getting frustrated. “You want me and I want you, what’s the issue here?”

“You want me now,” Ashton says. “But you’ll want your soulmate more.”

“Well, what if—” Luke is unable to speak the thought, shying away at the last moment at putting it into the universe in case it makes it less likely to happen. There’s a long pause. 

“If it happens then it happens,” Ashton says, and Luke can see a small hint of something in his face, but quickly covers it with another smile. He reaches up and strokes Luke’s cheek gently before ruffling his hair where it's curling on top of his head. 

“What now then,” Luke says, sagging in defeat.

“We carry on,” Ashton says shrugging. “You’ve distracted me now, how about you go and get us some food from the pizza place, I could take a break.”

Luke sighs and nods, stepping away from Ashton and heading towards the door.

“Hey, Luke,” Ashton says, and Luke turns around again. “I’m happy to have you at all. In any way I can.” 

Luke stops and looks at Ashton for a moment, but Ashton just smiles and starts wiping off his paintbrush.

Michael looks at him suspiciously when he returns to the dorms later. 

“Did something happen between the two of you?” He asks.

“No,” Luke says, but more grumpily than he’d intended.

“That means something happened.”

“Nothing happened! We just ate pizza.”

“Are you two still doing the ‘we’re just friends’ bit? Michael says, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Luke says. 

“What does that even mean?” Michael says. “Are you together or not?”

“No,” Luke says, shaking his head. “But we’re not, not, you know?”

“No, man, I don’t know,” Michael says exasperatedly. 

“He doesn’t want to be with me until I get my pattern,” Luke sighs. “He thinks I’m gonna change my mind on him or something.”

“Well, are you?” Michael asks.

“No! Mikey, I want him to be my soulmate so bad,” Luke says in a small voice, dropping his head into his hands. “But what if he’s not? What if he’s meant to be with someone else?” 

“Both of you are so fucking stupid,” Calum says from where he’s sprawled over Michael’s bed.

“What?” Michael squawks.

“Not you, babe,” Calum says. “Ashton and Luke. Stupidest boys I’ve ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke says defensively.

“You’ve been dancing around this for months, you’re so irritating,” Calum says, propping himself up on an elbow and looking at Luke. “I can’t believe this is the first conversation you’ve had about being with him and it ended with you being in the same position as you started.”

“That’s his fault,” Luke says childishly.

Michael and Calum exchange a look and Luke frowns at them both.

“I’m going to sleep now,” Luke says, and gets into bed fully clothed, turning away from the two of them.

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Michael snorts. “It's 10 pm.” 

“I can’t hear you because I’m sleeping,” Luke says, face pressed into the pillow. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

Luke starts sitting with Ashton as he paints. He’s got his own finals but he takes to studying in the studio with him, absorbing his warm and comfortable presence as he brushes more paint on to his canvases. They stay mainly quiet, Ashton’s painting playlist playing out a speaker, him humming along sometimes, his voicing drifting in and out of Luke’s awareness as he goes through his notes. Luke knows realistically that he shouldn’t spend so much time with Ashton whilst they’re in this limbo, but he can’t help himself, and he can’t help but like the new dynamic they have. Likes the way he almost doesn’t have to stress about it anymore. It’s slightly hazy and blurred like the paint over Ashton’s patterns, just more than friends, just not quite anything else. 

Ashton gets a near-perfect score on his final project as any one of them could have predicted, and seeing the canvases hung in the senior exhibition makes Luke’s chest feel like it's going to explode in fireworks, burning gold and shimmering. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

At the end of the school year and after Ashton’s graduation, the three of them move into Ashton’s apartment instead of moving home. Ashton’s got a grad job at one of the art galleries in the city, just admin stuff for now but it's a start, so he’s already staying. Matt moves out to go back to his hometown, but the lease isn’t up until August so they use it as an opportunity to spend the summer writing songs, finding gigs to do and generally dicking around before Ashton has to find a more permanent housing solution. Calum and Michael move into Matt’s room, and they spend an inordinate amount of time in there together now they have a room to themselves; Luke tries not to think of exactly what they’re doing.

Ashton says Luke can have his room and he can sleep on the couch, but Luke insists he’s fine sleeping on the couch and wouldn’t want to take Ashton’s bed from him. Michael butts in to say Luke should just sleep in Ashton’s bed with him, with an unnecessarily disgusting leer at the two of them, and it's true, it's not like they haven’t shared a bed before, but it feels different now, _they_ feel different now. There’s an unspoken agreement that sharing a bed might take them outside the line that they’re trying to carefully to toe. It doesn’t stop Luke thinking about it though, about how easy it would be to slip into Ashton’s bed, how it would feel to curl his body around him and rest his head on his shoulder. How it would feel to find his hand in the pitch-black, keeping him safe in the dark. 

Time passes quickly in songwriting and the terrible jobs they’ve picked up so they can afford to survive. As soon as July hits, all Luke can think about is his own birthday. He walks around in a daze most of the time, tracing his bare wrist in anticipation and only seeming to be able to write songs about soulmates. He’s driving everyone insane, he can tell, but he can’t help it. He feels like he might explode with combined excitement and anxiety about being someone’s soulmate, and about whose soulmate in particular. 

It’s Ashton’s twenty-second birthday first though, and they celebrate with a party in their tiny apartment, with all and any of their friends that are still hanging around or they’ve picked up in the last couple of months. It's busy and loud, and Luke finds himself in the kitchen to get a minute of quiet, sitting on the counter as all the chairs have been moved, and eating cheese balls out of a huge container. 

Ashton comes in a few minutes into Luke’s cheese ball solitude, hair in disarray and cheeks pink, he looks slightly loosened by the alcohol he’s consumed and his eyes are sparkling more than ever. He's got on a red shirt, one of Luke's favourites on him, and Luke can’t help but draw in a deep breath at the sight of Ashton this way, the longer he spends with him the more beautiful he becomes. Luke will blame that disgusting thought on the beers he’s consumed that evening. Ashton giggles at the sight of Luke munching and comes over to stand at the counter between his legs. He gets a lot closer than Luke expects and the cheese ball he’s just grabbed falls out of his fingers and rolls across the floor. Ashton laughs again, a grin seemingly painted permanently across his face, and looks up at Luke.

“You’re eating them wrong you know,” Ashton says, and Luke can tell he’s a little drunk by the way his words are slightly slurred.

“How can I be eating them wrong?” Luke asks petulantly. “There’s no cheese ball rules.”

“You should eat them with chopsticks," Ashton says, opening a drawer to Luke’s left and digging around until he finds some spare chopsticks they’d thrown in there after the last time they ordered Chinese food, waving them in Luke’s face. 

“What the fuck?” Luke laughs. “Chopsticks?”

“Then your fingers don’t get all cheesy and orange,” Ashton says seriously. He demonstrates and Luke is impressed by his dexterity considering the amount of alcohol he’d watched the man consume that evening. He snags a cheese ball out of the container and reaches up towards Luke’s mouth. Ashton waits, grinning until Luke opens his mouth and Ashton drops the cheese ball carefully between Luke’s lips before giggling again.

Luke blushes and chews before swallowing heavily.

“What are you doing in here anyway?” Luke says. “Shouldn’t you be enjoying your party birthday boy?”

“I am enjoying my party,” Ashton says, putting his hands on Luke’s thighs and smiling up at Luke. His eyes are slightly unfocused, pupils blown by the drinks, but the same glimmering and mysterious hazel. Luke can’t help but bring his own hands to rest on Ashton’s shoulders, thumb brushing along the skin of his neck lightly. Ashton inhales slightly and fixes Luke with an imperceptible look. Luke slides himself off the counter and drops to his feet so he’s on a level with Ashton, just a couple of inches taller. Ashton’s arms move to bracket Luke’s body, resting on the counter at either side of Luke’s hips and Luke can feel him everywhere, like he can’t breathe without it being Ashton. He watches Ashton lick his lips slightly and he instinctively leans a little closer.

“Luke,” Ashton murmurs across his lips. His breath is slightly whisky flavoured but Luke can’t really say anything when he’s been eating cheese balls for the last fifteen minutes. He wishes he had the foresight to have some gum. 

“Ash,” He whispers back, sliding his hand into the back of Ashton’s hair. 

“I want to kiss you,” Ashton says. 

“I always want to kiss you,” Luke says.

"I always want to kiss you too," Ashton replies plainly. "I've never not wanted to kiss you." 

Luke's heart stutters a little at Ashton's tipsy confession. “Why aren’t we kissing then?”

“We shouldn’t,” Ashton says, but he looks uncertain.

“Who says?” 

“Me? Maybe.”

“Are you saying that right now?” 

Ashton pauses, thinking. “I don’t know. What date is it?”

“July seventh,” Luke giggles. “Your birthday.”

“Nine days till yours,” Ashton says pensively.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Ashton sighs and drops his head to Luke’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t.”

“Ash—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Ashton says quietly. “I can’t. Just in case it's— in case you’re not—”

Luke just curls his arms back around Ashton’s shoulders and pulls him into his body. He wants to tell Ashton that he’s sure it’ll be him. He wants to tell him that he's safe kissing him because Luke won't ever want anyone else. But he _doesn't_ know. He can't imagine ever feeling this way about someone else, but maybe he's not meant to be Ashton's soulmate, maybe there's someone else out there more perfect for him than Luke. 

“Let's go back to your party, birthday boy,” Luke says shakily into the side of Ashton's head. He brushes his fingers over the band on Ashton’s wrist and Luke hears Ashotn's breath stutter slightly, before he links his fingers with Ashton’s and gently pulls him back into the other room. 

They don’t talk about it the next day, but Luke and Ashton spend the next nine days practically attached at the hip, Ashton slipping his hand into Luke’s at any opportunity and Luke resting his thumb on the edge of the band around Ashton’s wrist. 

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

Luke wakes up confused, like he’s supposed to be remembering something but can’t quite put his finger on what it is. He rolls over and nearly rolls off the couch when he remembers where he is and what day it is, immediately looking at his wrist, and then actually does drop off the sofa, sliding onto the ground, tracing his fingers around the black marks that have appeared there. The pattern is familiar to him, looping flowers and crashing waves wrapping around his skin. He remembers seeing it across pieces of hastily hidden sketchbook paper and doodles on coffee cups, drawn over and over again. And he remembers it across three large canvases in particular. Canvases that are currently propped in the corner of the room he’s sleeping in. 

“Ashton,” Luke whispers out loud, giddy.

He gets up and almost falls over his own legs in his haste to get to Ashton’s room. He bursts through the door to find Ashton sat on the edge of his bed, still in his sweat shorts and T-shirt, scrolling on his phone and jiggling his knee.

He looks up as Luke enters and a giddy but slightly unsure smile comes to his face.

“Happy Birthday,” Ashton says quietly. 

“You’re up early,” Luke says in a rush.

“Woke up and couldn't get back to sleep,” Ashton says, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about—”

Luke can't wait any longer, and brings his arm out in front of him, brandishing it at Ashton.

Ashton squints at Luke’s arm, and then laughs at himself and grabs his glasses off his bedside table, sliding them onto his face. Luke can see Ashton’s eyes widen behind the lenses as they trace over the pattern, a smile grows impossibly wide on his face and he beckons Luke towards him. Luke throws himself into Ashton’s lap and grabs his arm.

“Can I?” Luke asks, voice shaking with excitement.

Ashton just nods, his smile never fading, and Luke carefully slides the band off Ashton’s hand. There, defined clearly on his wrist, is the pattern that Luke thinks he would see even if he closed his eyes. He places his own wrist next to Ashton’s arm, just to see them side by side, matching intricate patterns which overlap over their skin, with no end or beginning. 

Luke uses his other hand to gently skim his fingers over Ashton’s wrist, leaving a scattering of goosebumps in his wake. He watches intently as a bright dazzling blue appears from the tips of his fingers, splashing across Ashton’s skin, cerulean waves rising and falling, swirling with the indigo of the sky. He hears Ashton laugh slightly.

“I knew it,” He says. 

Luke just grins at him and waves his own arm in Ashton’s face. Ashton flicks him before gently holding his hand, reaching out with his other hand to wrap his fingers around Luke’s wrist. As soon as he does, Luke watches what he feels like he’s waited his whole life to see; colour filling his wrist. Bright green unfurls from Ashton’s fingers, bursting into life along his skin, mixing with a deep greenish-gold which fans out and blends with the vibrant colours. 

“Oh,” Is all Luke can say. He looks up to see Ashton grinning at him, eyes sparkling and reflecting every single particular shade and hue that has appeared on Luke’s wrist.

"Fuck, I was so scared that you were going to be meant for someone else," Ashton breathes, before he kisses him, finally kisses him.

Luke’s arms wrap around Ashton’s neck and Ashton’s hands find their way to Luke’s hips as they kiss, and all of Luke’s consciousness centres on this one moment, the way he can feel Ashton’s slight stubble scratching against his face, his hands gripping onto him and his lips moving against his. Ashton swipes his tongue over Luke’s lower lip and Luke opens his mouth slightly, the kiss turning more heated before Luke drags his lips away. He breathes heavily and looks at Ashton, whose lips are now cherry red and eyes burning warm emerald. 

“Wait,” Luke says, slightly breathlessly. “You know I don’t do that, right?”

Ashton looks at him and frowns. “What?”

“I’m ace,” Luke says quickly. “I don’t have sex. Like, I don’t want to.”

“I know, Luke,” Ashton says. “I’ve been your friend for two years.”

“Well,” Luke says. “Okay.”

He pauses and nibbles on his lip ring nervously.

“What’s the issue, love?” Ashton says gently, running his hands up Luke’s arms to rest on his shoulders. Luke melts slightly at the pet name before shaking his head slightly.

“Do you still want? This?” He gestures between the two of them. Ashton looks at him incredulously but Luke just stays quiet, he has to know.

“Luke, are you familiar with the concept of soulmates?” Ashton says exasperatedly. 

“What do you mean?” Luke says frowning. 

“Are you versed in the idea that you are literally made for me?” Ashton kisses Luke on the forehead, the tip of his nose and then his lips. “What exactly makes you think that I want anything else?”

“But you have sex!” Luke protests. “I know you’ve had sex with people.”

“Yes,” Ashton says, holding Luke’s face in his hands, and thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “That’s how I know I really couldn't care less about having it again.” 

Luke knows he had more points to his argument but he’s finding it hard to think of them with Ashton’s eyes burning into his and the feeling of his hands brushing over his skin.

“Luke you are my soulmate,” Ashton says seriously, then smiles a little. “You are all I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever want. I've wanted you ever since you walked into the coffee shop with your stupid backwards snapback and your gorgeous eyes and ridiculous legs. I've wanted you the whole time you've sat at that table opposite me when I'm working, distracting me when you chew on your lip ring when you think. God, I wanted you so much when you wore that stupid Halloween costume and went out looking like that, and I wanted you even more when you spent the rest of the night holding my hand."

Luke just blinks at Ashton, words stuck in his throat.

"You changed my mind about soulmates, Luke," Ashton continues, still carefully cradling Luke's face in his hands. "You made me _want_ to be fated to be with someone. But only with you. I have been wanting and waiting for this day, Luke. I don't want anything else. I don't want anyone else." 

“Okay,” Luke says quietly and then falls silent. He tries to think, but all he can come up with is, “Will you kiss me again?”

“Anytime, any place,” Ashton says cheekily before drawing Luke’s face closer to his.

Luke sinks into Ashton, sighing across his lips as he feels like all the colours of Ashton’s painting wash over him in a dizzy dream, red and burning orange flames licking at him, sunshine yellow and warm amber bathing him in their glow, sapphire waves crashing over him and the pinky-purple of the sky during a sunset that takes your breath away. And green, growing and blooming, glittering and vivid, around his wrist and in Ashton’s eyes. 


End file.
